


Hard Fight, A

by westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Angst, Challenge Response, Episode Tag, Episode: s01e22 What Kind of Day Has It Been
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-07-21
Updated: 2001-07-21
Packaged: 2019-05-15 19:56:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14796929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist/pseuds/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist
Summary: What happens after the First Season's Finale.





	Hard Fight, A

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

  _ ****_

A Hard Fight by Gabe Kaiser

Category: just action, plain and simple

Disclaimer: I know it ain't mine and it ain't never gonna be mine, so if I borrow it every so often, 

just deal!

Spoilers: Um, try the first seasons' finale.

Summary: Answer to a challenge about what happens after the first seasons' finale.

Rating: R for a few offensive words

 

It began as a senior project. One more year until graduation, better spend it on something she enjoyed: politics. Josiah Bartlett and his staff had taken office just under two years ago. She remembered it all, which was the result of sitting in front of the television 24/7. As an adamant democrat, the young student had even volunteered at her local party headquarters. Although all she did was lick envelopes, the idea that she, Jessie Kaplin, had helped to get Jed Barlett elected was a thrilling one. At the age of eighteen, Jessie was compiling information about the Barlett administration and writing a critique to be handed it at the end of the year and read by the American Government teacher at her high school. 

Her uncle worked at the News Museum (or the Newseum as some Washingtonians had taken to calling it). Hence the connections that allowed her to go hear the President speak that fateful evening.

The discussion was interesting to say the least. Of course there were the normal "God save our country" comments thrown in for good measure, but Jessie overall approved. Her president had handled himself well when faced with difficult questions concerning the future of social security in our booming market economy. But she was not impressed, and even disappointed, with President Barlett's closing comments. How could he get such a major piece of information wrong? Every student of history, government, and even literature knew that our hero Thomas Jefferson had not been the first to physically write down a statement about the equality of men. He had, in fact, stolen it directly from John Locke who, himself, was influenced by the writings of Montesquieu. But even a great man was allowed a slip of the tongue. Jessie just hoped her president knew better...

It took a while for the president to emerge after the discussion. Jessie was waiting, along with everyone else, for the chance to shake the hands of the great president. But she stood there not only to meet the world's most famous public official, but to gauge his reaction and interaction with the crowd. After all, despite the term limits, an administration only lasted as long as the people put up with it. 

He finally emerged, ten minutes later than he was supposed too, but at least he came out. Scores of secret service swarmed around, hoping that in the last moment their president would regain his common sense and decide not to walk the ropeline. Did he want to get himself killed or what? Although the crowd had been checked and rechecked for weapons down to even a sharp ballpoint pen, you could never be too careful. After all, nobody was completely invincible. That was something the secret service needed to be constantly reminded of. 

Gina Tuscano lunged forward as she saw her "principle" follow her father out the door. She heard the din of Zoey talking to her as they made their way straight to the car, but she was too overly concerned with what was beyond her protectee. She scanned faces, chests, legs, buildings, the ground until she had made a full circle. Then she started again. Her eyes rested for a moment on Jessie Kaplin. Here was a teenager whose smile played on her lips, but she was not jumping up and down like the rest of the crowd. She stood casually behind the rush of hands that reached out to the president. Gina judged her quickly, determined her a "non-threat", and moved on. 

On reaching the car, Gina unconsciously reached up and wiped the sweat off her head. Her heart was pumping fast and the adrenaline was rushing through her blood. It did not take an idiot to realize something was about to happen. And Gina was not an idiot. She was not only a trained cop and an army reserve, but she was a special agent of the United State Secret Service. She prided herself on smelling a situation before it got out of hand. Only this time, her pride failed her. Her eyes fell silently upon a youthful skin-headed teenager. He was reaching for his hat. Not usually a place where a weapon was hidden, but she wasn't sure. That was the worst part about it. She wasn't sure. One quick word would send the secret service flying on top of the president, but if she used that word without a 100% assurance she was risking the reputation of not only herself, but the entire USSS as well. In politics, the cliché "better to be safe than sorry" did not exist. 

All she could say was "I saw something". And that was not enough to propel the secret service into action. It should've been, but it wasn't. She repeated it twice, and that was all the time she had. The third plea was interrupted by gun fire. 

All Jessie could think about as the dark sky exploded in sparks and bullets and the crowd became frantic, everyone diving for cover, was "God save our country".

Gina saw the gun before it was fired. A split-second before. It wasn't enough time to think. But she didn't need to do that. Her body took over. It was her body that threw herself on top of Zoey Barlett. It was her body that pushed the First Child into the bullet-proof, armored limousine. And it was her body, not her mind or her heart, that left Charlie Young standing outside the car. But it _was_ her heart that leapt out to the youngster as she saw him fall under the impact of a .9mm bullet. Before Zoey got a chance to see her boyfriend hit the ground, the car was speeding away. _Better that way_ thought Gina. As cruel as it seemed, she didn't have the energy to deal with a frantic teenager. 

But Zoey was frantic. Frantic, scared, terrified, confused, and upset... She couldn't comprehend what had just happened. All she knew was that her boyfriend and father were back there, with the sniper fire, bullets, and blood... Shortly thereafter her train of thoughts was cut off as her body entered into shock. Shock was the body's natural protection to something it couldn't handle. And it was obvious that Zoey, not yet an adult, couldn't handle what had just happened.

The trouble was, neither could the USSS. There were three agents perched on top of the President. Who, besides breaking a wrist hitting the ground, was otherwise unhurt... for the moment. The problem as the secret service saw it was to get him into a car without any critical injury. And the flying bullets prevented that.

Underneath the sweat of three desperate agents, the President was feeling the heat... and the pain from a broken wrist. _Could be worse_. He knew that, but it wasn't over yet. The three agents, coupled by Ron Butterfield (head of detail) pulled the president up to a squatting position and moved him along to a two-ton armored car that had just arrived for the specific purpose of getting the President of the United States the hell out of there. He was leaving behind his senior staff, but at that moment, it couldn't be helped. 

A SWAT team, comprised of a combination of DC Metro and top USSS agents, had already broken down the outside door. They were holding close by. Close enough to hear the gunmen shooting at the crowd below. At _their_ president. The orders to bust in had not come in yet, and the agents were getting antsy just waiting.

The armored car, having just been joined by a motorcade of police cars and military vehicles, followed the path that Zoey's limousine took just moments before to Naval Hospital in Bethesda. Not only was this where the President's private doctors were located, but it was safe. Located on acres of military-owned land, the Naval Hospital provided the protection the President needed that instance. Cars screeched to a halt outside the entrance to the tall hospital (which was strikingly similar to the infamous building from Ghostbusters). Agents dispersed and not until every square inch of the ground was covered was the president allowed to get out of his car. He did so with the help from a young agent who had opened his door. He still didn't trust his feet to hold him up properly. "My daughter?"

"Inside, sir. Gina brought her in safe and sound, sir."

The President allowed one weary smile. "Thank you," he told the agent. With that he walked into the building to see his youngest child. Secret Service formed a tight net around him. They had taken this evening personally. After all, he was theirs to protect, and they had failed him... hadn't they? Well, they'd just have to make up for it. They'd been damned if they'd let anybody get within a hundred feet of their president ever again. 

 

The evening had gone well, the First Lady thought. She had the support of the Arabic women, and hopefully some men. Fighting for women's rights in an area of the world which dressed their women in all black was challenging to say the least. Advances were being made, and women were accepted more and more into governmental positions. She was discussing the weather (a rather safe subject) with the Prime Minister of Iran when she was interrupted by Russell Dean, the head of her security detail. Who, as politely as he could, took the First Lady's arm and pulled her out of the reception room. 

"Ma'am, we have a situation. We need to get you out of here right now, as quickly and quietly as we can."

Although utterly confused at the moment, the First Lady understood that she could not argue nor question the people who were trained to protect her from death. She nodded. "What do I tell them." She gestured with her head back towards the reception room. 

"Nothing, ma'am. We'll handle it. Now, please, ma'am." He motioned her off to an additional two bodyguards. Who, on either side of her, accompanied to her to the waiting car. 

Once, inside the car quickly leaving the Iranian Embassy, the First Lady turned on her protective detail. No longer would she play the willing accomplice. "Now, Russ, please tell me what's going on. What's happened?" She tried the keep the panic from her voice, but Dean sensed it. 

"There was an assassination attempt on the President tonight, ma'am." He said slowly, but at the sight of her face, he finished up quickly. "The President and your daughter are safe for the moment. Secret Service got them out and they are at the Naval Hospital."

"Oh my god. Jed, Zoey... They... they're really alright?" 

"Yes, ma'am. They are."

"But what about Leo and CJ and all the rest. Oh god, what happened?"

"Not now ma'am. Let us get you somewhere safe, with your family, and we'll figure everything out."

"You mean, Leo's not with them. The staff? They're still at the museum? Oh god..." Russ moved to sit next to her, and patted her hand. More than just a polite, comforting gesture, Russ wanted to ensure that his principle wouldn't faint. She was well on her way to hyperventilating and that wouldn't do at all. 

"All units, I repeat, all units, this is a _go_. Authorization for clean sweep is a _go_. I repeat, all units, authorization is..." It was faint over the headsets. It was designed that way. It wouldn't do for your enemies to hear your own orders as they were being transmitted. Special agent Patrick Cleary headed the entrance team. Even with eight heavily armed agents behind him, and full body amour on himself, he still got dizzy-headed from thinking about barging in on armed suspects. Surprise was a excellent advantage, but sometimes, if not often, it turned out to be a deadly one. Cleary didn't have much time to think about it, anyway. With the authorization from his earpiece, he held up one hand and quickly dropped it. He moved aside, as two agents came upon the door with a battering ram. Within two swings, the door fell in. 

"FEDERAL AGENTS! PUT YOUR WEAPONS DOWN!"

"GET YOUR FUCKING HANDS WHERE I CAN SEE THEM! DO IT!! NOW!!!"

"DOWN, WEAPONS DOWN!!!"

"GET YOUR ASSES ON THE FLOOR"

The two teenagers turned from their positions at the window, stunned at the sudden break-in. Faced with nine cops that were armed to the teeth, the kids saw no other option. They knew they were going down, so they better go down in style. The older of the two gripped his sawed-off semi-automatic and began pumping bullets into the group. He was soon followed by his young protégé. But it was not long before the two of them were on the ground, clutching their gapping wounds caused by good-guy close-range bullet fire. At least, they faired better than the three cops that dropped with enemy fire. Cleary wasn't was of them, but as he viewed the aftermath, he'd all most wish he were. The emotional pain of a living person was sometimes harder than the physical pain of a dying one.

The firm pressure a hand grasping his arm caused Leo McGarry to look up at the face of one stressful-looking agent whose service weapon was still in his hand, slightly smoking from the shots the agent undoubtedly got off. 

"Mr. McGarry, sir, we're all clear. Let me help you up, sir." Shaking, Leo was brought to his feet. Leaning on the agent, he took a look around him. _God Almighty._ It reminded him of his time in the Air Force, when he'd fly over war zones that had been plagued by bomb after bomb. All that was left were a couple of bodies and lots of kicked-up dust that would soon settle down as if nothing had happened. And that was all that was left at the Newseum. Bodies were strewn everywhere: bodies of agents, bodies of staff members, bodies of innocent spectators who had only come to show their appreciation to a good man and president. The spectators who weren't dead had long since fled. The staff members who weren't dead were being helped up by agents who hadn't died. Leo spotted Sam getting up from under the body weight of a dead agent. CJ and Josh were accounted for... bruised but alive. Toby was prompted up against the tire of a car. Leo had figured that the President was long gone. After all, the USSS had the responsibility for getting him out of there first. They're next concern would've been Zoey. She must have been swept away too. He couldn't spot her nor her principle agent Tuscano. But... oh, my god... Zoey wasn't there, but Charlie sure was. He took his hand off of the agent's shoulder and walked fast (his feet couldn't quite work well enough yet for him to run) over the Charlie. He reached the young man's side, just as Josh did. They looked at each other over the kid's shaken form. 

"You alright?" Leo quickly asked his deputy chief of staff. After he received a jotted nod, Leo was about to respond, but he was interrupted by a sharp intake of breath. 

"Jesus, Charlie." Josh grabbed the man's bloodied hand. "Hang in there kid, you're gonna be alright." 

Josh glanced up at his boss, whose mouth opened with a sharp command. "AMBULENCE!! WE NEED PARAMEDICS OVER HERE!! NOW!!!" At the sound of his voice an agent slid over to them. He bent his head down over Charlie's chest to more carefully hear his raspy breathing.

"Sir, can you hear me." Silence. "Sir, I need to know if you can hear me." The agent, well schooled in the art of first aid, put his hands around the young man's face and tilted his head up towards him. His eyes were open, but his pupils had fallen into the back of his head. 

"CPR?" Josh asked.

The agent shook his head. "He hasn't stopped breathing. Besides the pressure on his chest from that alone would kill him."

Leo took his other hand. "Just hang in there, son. Help's on it way." 

Help did come... in the form of blaring sirens. The dark sky was light up from flashes of red and blue from the cop cars. Smoke the was residue from guns and screechy tires was in the air. The atmosphere was hot, muggy, and tense as EMT gently lifted the injured man onto a gurney and into a ambulance that would head over to Arlington Hospital accompanied by agents who didn't want to let anyone out of their sight just yet. 

"Aw... SHIT!" It was the first time Josh had heard his boss cuss. In fact, he'd been lectured by Leo on his language before. But Josh understood that hard times called for even harder words. "Jenkins!" Leo was calling the nearest agent over.

"Sir!"

"What's the deal, Jenkins? Is the President safe?"

"Sir, he� " The agent was cut short as some information came over his earpiece. He continued. "We got him and his daughter out, sir. They're at Naval Medical." Leo nodded, scratched his head, and sighed. 

"The shooters. What happened?"

"Sir, I can't tell you for certain now. I don't know myself. But we had two shooters. SWAT took them out few minutes ago." Leo nodded again.

"Someone call the First Lady? Is she safe?"

"Yes, sir. She's back at the House."

"Alright, I want everyone to head over to Naval. No press... no nothing." The agent didn't need to be told that. Press were his worst enemy. Leo nodded to the agent and moved on. "CJ," he called out. CJ and Sam nodded at his approach. 

"What's happened, sir?" Leo noticed the unusual title placed at the end of Sam's statement. He understood Sam's need to know someone was in charge. And calling someone "sir" was the best way to convince yourself that at least you weren't. 

"Everyone all right?" Leo questioned the group that had just been joined by Toby. He received nods. No one was trusting their voices to talk yet. "POTUS and his daughter are clear. Secret Service has got them at Naval Medical. Apparently it was some pissed off skin heads who were having just a little to much fun from a window up there." He pointed to the window where all the shots had been fired from. "SWAT took them out." Josh came up from behind him. "The bad news, people..." Leo looked around and decided that almost everything tonight was bad news. "Well, the really bad news is Charlie's been shot." That statement had a immediate reactions among the group. _One of us..._ "Chest wound, EMT said punched a lung. If they can get him into OR living, he'll have a chance." 

Sam nodded to that again. "He'll fight, sir. He'll fight hard to live."

"Yeah," Toby agreed. "Yeah, we all will."

  


End file.
